The fallacy of ‘go big or go home’: redefining ambition.

Years ago, in another lifetime and blessed with another life, my friend Danielle and I attended the AWP (Association of Writers & Writing Programs) Conference together — the United States’s largest national conference for writers. We were having lunch at the Artists’ Cafe in Chicago, having just finished attending the only panel I went to during the entire conference; and, as usual, we were seething with criticism, because that was the default mode of our friendship at the time.

In particular, we were talking about desperation. I thought that the writers who’d raised their hands during the panel, asking about publication, seemed desperate. Danielle had a few favorite phrases. One was, “The cream rises to the top.” Another was, “Go big or go home.” Both applied to writers and writing careers.

She began talking about publication and small presses. She would, she said, get picked up by one of the big, prestigious houses, or she would not publish at all. Go big or go home, she said.

And she meant it. A year later, sitting on my couch in San Francisco and crying, she told me that she wasn’t sure she wanted to be a writer at all, and that perhaps she’d actually do better as a banker. She was brilliant at so many things, and I knew that the idea of publishing her first book, which would turn out to flip her life upside-down, was a terrifying one for her, whereas becoming a banker was not. She would do it big or she would not do it at all.

Danielle would end up publishing that first book to enormous acclaim and a huge advance. She would receive more awards and accolades than I can count on both hands. In other words, she went big. She is, as far as I can tell from my distant view, still writing.

I try to state all of these facts with as much objectivity as possible. I envy Danielle for particular things and not for others. While she went on to traditional literary success, the future of my first novel remains uncertain, and I’m working on a second book and building my business in the meantime. But the line that we both said over and over again, with various amounts of fervor, still nags me.

Go big or go home. Go big. If you don’t go big, you might as well give up. It was a concept that spoke plainly the ideals I held at the time. I believed in enormous novels — if not physically, then at least in concept and scope. One of the letters I received from an editor recently was that my novel was a “big, important” first book — which was exactly what I’d wanted when I was writing the damn thing — and winning the Nobel Prize. I believed in writing fiction eight to ten hours a day without getting up except to go to the bathroom or to get more gin or coffee or maybe both. I believed that if I worked hard enough, and dedicated myself with the right amount of furious commitment, I could triumph in the literary world. I believed this not only about the literary world, but about everything in my life, including my day job, my household, and the way that I loved people.

I look back at that self of not so many years ago, and I think, What hubris. I think this a bit sadly, and not unkindly. But that self didn’t understand a few things that I’ve since picked up and put in my pockets, either willingly or unwillingly.

That self that believed in go big or go home believed in a kind of control that doesn’t exist.

That self didn’t understand that circumstance often dictates the adjustments we must make in life.

That self had been dealing with mental illness for years, but still believed that “going big” to the tune of working herself to the bone was always going to be a possibility, when it wasn’t, and isn’t, and isn’t for so many people, including those who aren’t living with a severe mental illness. Which includes people living with other circumstances — children, partners who need care, multiple day jobs, different socioeconomic situations — essentially, any fluctuation in what I thought was supposed to be a perfect tuning.

I thought of this belief a lot when I was, in my mind, falling by the wayside in terms of both business development and my literary career toward the end of 2013. At the same time, the concept of ease — particularly within Danielle LaPorte’s Metrics of Ease, and my pal Alexandra Franzen’s interviews and writings about the gift of creating whatever is simplest to make, which was a terribly foreign concept to me, akin to eating with my feet — was lighting up around me. Popping up on my radar in small, ease-filled blips while I fell apart, mentally and physically, and berating myself for the inability to work hard enough, which also meant to be good enough, which also meant to work hard enough (be good enough) so that I could deserve to have an abundant, and fulfilling, business and literary career.

I berated myself while I lay in bed, my eyes unable to open, my medical situation so confusing and strange that my doctors thought it was likely I was suffering from a neurodegenerative disease.* I berated myself while trying to keep my eyes open long enough to tap something out — some pathetic, small paragraph of a book — and berated myself again when I put the tablet down and collapsed into half-consciousness for the rest of the day.

The belief that we must go big or go home is a dangerous one. It can keep us from making any steps at all, yes; but it can also destroy our idea of self-worth, if that self-worth is entwined with the notion that we must do everything or fail and become our failures. Self-worth dwindles in this model if there is no space for work; and when there became little space for work in my life, the belief I espoused so fervently in Chicago bred the belief of worthlessness.

*According to medical tests, I don’t have a neurodegenerative disease. Thank you kindly, and with love, for any well-wishes sent my way.

Click to tweet:

The belief that we must go big or go home is a dangerous one. – @esmewang, bit.ly/JNWgNH (tweet)

Intrigued by this piece about the danger of “go big or go home.” bit.ly/JNWgNH @esmewang (tweet)

“Go big or go home” relies on a control that doesn’t exist. bit.ly/JNWgNH @esmewang (tweet)

Question: Did you ever hold this belief, and in what way? Where in your life have you been “going smaller” as part of a conscious decision?

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I started crying as I listened to you read this. Talk about relatable. It made me think of the kind of work ethic I was raised to have. I remember talking to my boss about it once, way back when I started in retail for the first time. I told her I was raised to “do it right…” which she interrupted with the reply of “or don’t do it at all,” to which I also replied “no, just do it right.”

Even in my first couple of years of university, though I’d struggled with mental illness for as long as I could remember, I still believed that if I just pushed myself hard enough, I could accomplish anything.

Oh how I’ve had to reevaluate all of that now. When some days all I can do is take care of my basic physical needs, and anything that requires cognitive functioning is out of the question. Go big is not really an option. And yet I still strive for it in some ways. I have an obsession with doing something intensely meaningful. Something profound. Something that will make an impact. Is it worth writing if it’s not going to be that? That question burns up my mind.

But I survive by clinging to simplicity. Pare things down. Look at the next moment. The next task. Write one word, then another, and another. A sentence today, a paragraph tomorrow. And eventually, maybe, I’ll have a novel. And eventually maybe it will be meaningful, at least to someone.

Go big or go home. Maybe just “going,” without the size factor, should really be enough. And hopefully I can truly feel that way at some point. That it’s enough to go. It’s enough to be.

This: “Maybe just “going,” without the size factor, should really be enough. And hopefully I can truly feel that way at some point. That it’s enough to go. It’s enough to be” is exact, and beautiful. I hope that people read the comments, because I want them to see this. Thank you. x

I rarely leave comments on blogs but I just had to this time. Thank you for writing this. This is one of those posts I will keep and refer to many times.

I have been hard-wired to think to go big or go home and I’ve attempted so many different things and I always abandon them because I feel I will never do anything worthwhile. Each time I also thought that if only I committed myself 200% to the task I would create something huge. My personality type doesn’t help either, I’m extremely self-demanding so to avoid wars with myself I tend to abandon my personal projects.

So glad that you said hello! Sometimes I do wonder if I’m shouting into the void. 🙂

Abandoning projects due to this mentality is another thing that I didn’t quite touch upon, but is indeed another side effect. A self-demanding personality (um, like mine) especially adds to this, as you mentioned.

Overachievement is, in my mind, a wonderful thing. But it’s not possible for everyone at all times, and it’s detrimental to think of it as such.

I love your intention: listening to values, making space for flow. Yes. x

I loved this piece Esmé. I think I sometimes hide behind ‘go big or go home’ to justify not doing anything at all… the mentality that I don’t have 8 hours a day to write, so I won’t write anything amazing, so I won’t get published – rather than approaching things more gently and, as Rei said, just writing one word at a time, just ‘going’.

A great point re: how this applies to writing, especially because it *is* such an enormously daunting concept. Writing a book can indeed look like writing eight hours a day… but not everyone has that luxury. Sometimes it looks like approaching things gently, as you said. And as Rei said, “just going.” Love it. x

This is a beautifully written truth. I’ve recently started to think and reflect on the true meaning of failure, and this just took those reflections to a new level for me. Isn’t odd that we carry this “go big or go home” belief with us, and promote it so much from the time we are young until we are adults pursuing careers, when all this belief says is that if you’re successes aren’t big enough they aren’t worthy. You’re right, this belief is extremely detrimental to feelings of self love and self worth. You should never degrade yourself or your accomplishments because they are not “big” enough. And who is to judge the measure of “big?” Certainly not the person making the accomplishment, because, in the case of your friend, I’m sure that being published by a small company could have big enough.

I love this comment! “Failure” is such a loaded word — I know that I often think of myself as a failure when I’m hung heavy with catastrophic thinking, and I believe that this belief of “going big, etc.” deeply contributes to it. I still do have big dreams. I still do want to leave a legacy. However, my self-worth is something that I no longer want to tie to my physical, spiritual, or mental capability to do the things that once meant “going big.”

Go big or go home – like many other phrases is full of interpretation. Go big to me mean take a risk, be courgeous, don’t shrink in the presence of your own greatness. “Big” to me might mean getting an Op Ed piece in my local paper, for your friend it meant being really published, for you it means writing here. I think society in general tends to put too much emphasis on what others thinks. Generally if someone makes me “feel bad” it has more to do with my own $hit (excuse me) than them. Someone once said to me that no one can make you feel a way that you don’t already feel (but are trying not to). I do agree that we should honor and celebrate our successes as small milestones, as well as the big kabang. Either way I always try to remember that sometimes, on my “hard days” just taking a shower, or leaving the house IS going big.

Thank you for this! I’ve always disliked that saying. It has never felt right for me and I thought that I was the only one to feel this way. My first article to be featured in a magazine was for a small local magazine about living in tiny homes. Sometimes small and even tiny is good!

Go big or go home! If you are going to do it, do it at 150%!! the list goes on… Esme! your words resonate so deep with me. It is outstanding to find someone who understands – who truly, ‘Gets it’. I can’t put my thoughts/feelings into words the way most can. But to see them in print is amazing. I am finally validated. I think you now have a massive fan.

About Esmé

Esmé Weijun Wang is an award-winning writer and advocate. At The Unexpected Shape, she provides resources that assist ambitious people who live with limitations, allowing them to develop both resilience and mastery on the path to building a legacy. Her debut novel, The Border of Paradise, is now available for purchase.

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